Spring Quiet

Gone were but the Winter,

Come were but the Spring,

I would go to a

Where the birds sing;

Where in the

Singeth a thrush,

And a robin

In the holly-bush.

Full of fresh

Are the budding

Arching high overA cool green house:

Full of sweet scents,

And whispering

Which sayeth softly:"We spread no snare;"Here dwell in safety,

Here dwell alone,

With a clear

And a mossy stone."Here the sun

Most shadily;

Here is heard an

Of the far sea,

Though far off it be."